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Collins, Wilkie, 1824-1889

"Miss or Mrs?"

Natalie had but too accurately guessed what would happen. The
death of the villain's accomplice had freed him from all apprehension
in that quarter. He had deliberately dogged Launce's steps, and had
deliberately allowed him to put himself in the wrong by effecting a
secret entrance into the house.
There was an interval--a horrible interval--and then they heard the
front door opened. Without stopping (judging by the absence of sound)
to close it again, Turlington rapidly ascended the stairs and tried the
locked door.
"Come out, and give yourself up!" he called through the door. "I have
got my revolver with me, and I have a right to fire on a man who has
broken into my house. If the door isn't opened before I count three,
your blood be on your own head. One!"
Launce was armed with nothing but his stick. He advanced, without an
instant's hesitation, to give himself up. Natalie threw her arms round
him and clasped him fast before he could reach the door.
"Two!" cried the voice outside, as Launce struggled to force her from
him.


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